At least our drama seems to consistently remain in the medical field.
Last week we returned for a quick visit to The Arctic Tundra where we spent a joyous time with many of our homeschool friends. Last Saturday the girls played with their friends, while Jer and I entertained ourselves with ours.
Come 1AM Sunday morning, Lydia woke up fussing and crying. I immediately thought, "Crap, why did I let her have all that fruit salad?" I thought she was refluxing. Every hour or so, she'd sit up coughing, fussing, whining and crying. Every hour or so, I'd pull her into my lap and rock her back to sleep. By 7, I finally had it all figured it out.... Lydia was running a fever. Flushed cheeks, snotty nose, hacking coughs and a 100* fever.
Poor thing was miserable. So I did what any mother would do. We doped her up with Ibuprofen, dressed her for church and finished the morning with lunch with some church friends.
And no, we never mention Lydia's sickness. Because we're classy like that.
By Sunday night, it then became apparent that some of our choices that day were coming back to haunt us. Like the one we made by not exchanging the grapes on Lydia's salad for cucumbers. Her poor little privates.... redder than red and putting her in serious, uncomfortable pain. It fully explained why I kept cocking my head as she'd walk in front of me as if she just climbed off a horse.
So there was that bit of medical drama.
Kyra, however, never wanting to be left out, decided to catch Lydia's virus. She too woke up Tuesday with a snot nose and cough. She complained of feeling miserable so I automatically dosed her up with Ibuprofen and sent her about her way. She played most of the day away, outside, and with her sister. We dosed her up again after night time baths, put her to bed, kissed her good night and went on our merry way.
1AM comes along, (do you see a pattern, here?) and Kyra comes to the bedside and taps me ever so gently. I spring to life, asking what's wrong and was immediately aware she was having an asthma attack. Thanking the Good Lord Above, I talked Jeremy through giving her a dose of her inhaler (he'd never done it before) and watched her breathing become more normal. Her flushed cheeks, however, gave away that she, too, was running a fever. 100.4* when I formally checked and confirmed.
More Ibuprofen, some cough and cold medicine and after a bit of thorough persuasion, she was sleeping in the bed with me. After all, with all that different medication in her system, I was have worried I would inadvertently overdose her.
It came out later in the day, sitting in the pediatrician's office, that Kyra had first tried to wake Daddy, but he didn't get up, so then she came to me. I even went as far as turned on the light and called him three times, increasing in volume, before he ever woke.
This is hilarious to me, because, if you ever need to break into someones house and steal things while people are sleeping.... try ours. You can turn on the light and make all the noise you want and Jeremy WILL. NEVER. WAKE.
I had mentioned a few weeks ago that Kyra was having some milder attacks, but this last one was a full on asthma attack. Scared the dickens out of she and I both. I made an appointment that day, just to see if I'm doing things right, as I don't know, exactly, when to use her Nebulizer and when to use her inhaler. The pediatrician never actually cleared that up, but at least she gave us a new prescription for 2 new inhalers, as the only one we had was due to expire this August, and asked us to follow up in two weeks.
So, you know, we'll follow up. But hopefully with her actual pediatrician and with some real answers instead of the first available pedi who has 'round about answers.
Nice doc, just not who or what I was going for.
But that's our drama for this week. It's mild. It's fixable. I'll take it.